Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

One year ago

Wipe-Out knew he was about to die.

He was hard pressed to think of an outcome to this scenario where he didn’t. Here he was, caught between the Xantium — ship of the notorious Wreckers — and Outpost Two, which he had just been thrown out of by his own comrades. He supposed he couldn’t really call them “comrades” anymore, though. What kind of comrade threw their teammates out into the vacuum of space when there was a very high chance of those teammates dying?

It didn’t matter, of course. The barrels of the Xantium’s guns were glowing, ready to fire upon his prone form. He was surprised with himself for not being too torn up over it, instead feeling a twinge of acceptance as the Wreckers’ ship unleashed a blast of energy in his direction.

Light engulfed his vision. He expected it wouldn’t be long before he lost all sense of his body as his consciousness drifted into the Afterspark, becoming one with all others who had died before him.

Instead, he found himself falling face-first onto solid ground, drawing a loud “Oof!” from him as he collided with the metal floor. Groaning, Wipe-Out raised himself up on his arms, shielding his optics from the blue light that surrounded him.

“I hope you weren’t in the middle of anything important,” a familiar voice spoke.

“Grand Architect?” With some effort, Wipe-Out managed to get back onto his feet, still shaking from his near-death experience. “You… you saved me?”

“It wasn’t my outright intention,” the Grand Architect replied. “I just so happened to retrieve you at the right time—”

“Oh, bless the Allspark!” Wipe-Out threw his arms up over his head as he dropped to his knees. “There really is a Primus, isn’t there? God wants me to live! I am grateful beyond words!”

“Please stop that,” the Grand Architect said wearily.

“I am forever in your debt, Grand Architect,” Wipe-Out went on, bowing his head. “Whatever it is you require of me, just say the word and I will—”

“Enough,” the Grand Architect boomed, snapping Wipe-Out back to attention. “You will have plenty of opportunities to repay your debt. In fact, I have one for you right now.”

“Name it,” Wipe-Out said eagerly.

“I’ve been meaning to get in touch with former operatives of mine, including some of your fellow blacksmiths. Do you happen to know any that you can arrange a meeting with?”

Wipe-Out thought for a moment. “Well, I still have Fastshot in my contacts. Last I heard, he was living in retirement on Hedonia, but he might be open to some catching up.”

“Oh, yes,” the Grand Architect said, sounding the most pleased Wipe-Out had ever heard him. “We all have much, much catching up to do….”

Cybertron, present day

“Anything?”

“Quiet,” was the sharp response Stylor delivered. The small gray and red Titan Master stood on Wipe-Out’s shoulders with his needle-like fingers plunged into the Decepticon’s neck. Star Saber and Checkpoint stood nearby, watching with varying levels of apprehension as the mnemosurgeon did his work. Checkpoint was the most tense, shooting questioning glances in Star Saber’s direction every now and then.

“I still don’t like this,” the security chief muttered.

“Neither do I,” Star Saber admitted. “But it may well be our only chance at getting to the bottom of this.”

After several long minutes had passed, Stylor gently pulled his needles out and retracted them back into his hand. He then looked to the two Autobots with a grim expression.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t know any more than you do,” said the Titan Master. “All of his interactions with the Grand Architect amounted to him doing their dirty work.”

“What about him reprogramming Ten to kidnap Rung?” asked Star Saber. “Did you get anything from that?”

Stylor shook his head. “It was all remote communication, far as I could tell. Didn’t see anything that would be of use to you guys.”

Checkpoint huffed in exasperation. “So we all pretty much just wasted our time. Now I’ve got a possibly illegal mnemosurgery operation on my record.”

“I’ll take the brunt of the blame if needed,” Star Saber told him. To Stylor, he said, “Thank you for your time. I’ll take things from here.”

As Stylor jumped down and headed out of the interrogation room, Star Saber approached the seated Wipe-Out who jolted in response. “Please,” the Decepticon said in a tiny voice, “don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Star Saber said gently. “No one is. We just want answers.”

“I can’t give them to you,” Wipe-Out replied. “If I do, he’ll kill me.”

“No, he won’t. Not as long as I have anything to say about.” Undoing Wipe-Out’s restraints, Star Saber knelt down a rested a hand on his shoulder. “I would like to offer you to come along with me and my crew. We are traveling to the Muta-Gaath Nebula to hopefully find answers there.”

Wipe-Out eyed him warily. “Why do you want me to come along?”

“To help us. Even if you can’t do it directly or explicitly, maybe you can help us in ways that the Grand Architect won’t notice. Point us in the right direction and all of that.”

Wipe-Out seemed to consider this offer, tilting his head. “And in return you’ll protect me?”

“Yes, of course. I mean, we would be doing that regardless because—”

“Thank you!” Wipe-Out jumped forward and threw his arms around Star Saber’s neck, surprising the larger bot. “Bless the Allspark, thank you!”

“Uh, you’re welcome.” Star Saber awkwardly patted his back. “You can, uh, you can stop that now.”

Wipe-Out pulled away but still looked giddy with gratitude. “That was me accepting the offer, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“No, uh, I got that. You made it pretty clear.”

While Wipe-Out continued to bounce with excitement, Star Saber looked over to Checkpoint, who had an amused expression on his face. With a smirk, the police bot simply mouthed the words “You’re doomed” to the Crusadercon captain.

Star Saber had nothing to refute that with.

*  *  *

“Why do we keep coming back to this ship? I thought the quest was over.”

“The quest is never over, my friend!” Swerve said as he and Stormshot walked up the ramp to the Lost Light. “When one quest ends, another one begins! The Knight Quest may be over, but the Rung Quest has just begun!”

“I am already starting to regret my decision,” Stormshot muttered to herself.

To her surprise, it seemed as if most of Star Saber’s crew had answered his call to return to the Lost Light for this new mission. Either everyone truly cared that much about Rung and wanted to help rescue him, or they all simply had nothing better to do. The cynical part of her wanted to think the latter, and her cynical part made up at least ninety percent of her whole being.

Still, she supposed for her part this was because she cared enough about Rung to help rescue him. He had helped her in figuring out who and what she was, and for that she was forever in his debt. This was the only way she could think of repaying him for everything that he had done.

As the two of them stepped onto the ship, Stormshot quickly lost herself in the growing crowd of returning Crusadercons in order to get away from Swerve. Fortunately, the minibot did not seem to notice as he immediately latched his attention onto a mildly annoyed Skids. Pushing her way past others, Stormshot headed in the direction of the habitation suites, intent on isolating herself until it was needed of her to interact with others. Even after all the time she had spent with these bots on their adventures, she still was not fully comfortable engaging in social interactions with them. There was always this vague disconnect she felt when doing so, and she knew she was the only one who noticed it. Thus, she preferred to avoid conversations altogether rather than risk any potential embarrassment on her part.

Making her way down the hall, Stormshot was about to head for her old hab suite when she caught movement in the corner of her vision. She turned around to face the end of the hall just as a metal leg disappeared around the corner. This confused her; as far as she knew, no one else had gone ahead of her, and no one else would have already been on the ship. Unable to resist the urge to investigate, Stormshot briskly walked down to the end of the hall and looked in the direction she had seen the mysterious bot go. However, not only did she not see the bot in question… but the corridor it had walked down through was a dead end. There were no doors or other access points for anyone to have gone through.

Stormshot shook her head. Was she just seeing things? After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she thought something was off with her processor….

Sighing, she decided not to think much of it and returned to her hab suite. Perhaps a quick recharge was due.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

Gigantion, two years ago

Chief Justice Tyrest collapsed onto the ground, energon bleeding from his abdomen. He clamped a hand over the open wound but it did little good; he could still feel all of his energy slipping away from him by the nanosecond.

He had to admit, he had not expected Star Saber to turn against him so soon. He knew that the naive bot would have caught on to his deception eventually, but not until well after the Chaos Bringer had been freed from his prison and brought the Cybertronian race to heel. By that point, it would have been suicidal for Star Saber to rebel, and if he did the Heralds would have made short work of him.

Still, Tyrest supposed to didn’t matter much now. Unicron was free and it was all thanks to him. He had fulfilled his role as Chief Justice by bringing about the ultimate judge of Cybertron and the Cybertronian race. Justice had, at last, been served.

Falling onto his back, he stared up at the sky and marveled at the faraway shape of Unicron. Pride filled his spark even as it started to fail him. Already, he could feel death coming to claim him….

Suddenly, a bright light lit up in the sky, blinding him with its blue glow. As Tyrest tried to adjust his optical sensors in response, a voice spoke out to him, seeming to come from all directions at once.

“Chief Justice Tyrest,” it said. “You appear to be… indisposed.”

Tyrest groaned as he struggled to speak. “Who… are you?”

“I am the Grand Architect,” the voice said. “And you belong to me, now.”

Before Tyrest knew it, he was being lifted up from the ground, slowly pulled closer towards the blue light. Unable to move, Tyrest could only brace himself for the worse as the light began to engulf him.

His ascension was abruptly ended as his back collided back onto a solid surface. Nondescript silver walls surrounded him as a wide array of tools and appendages sprung out from the floor beneath him. At first he thought they were going to attack him only for them to begin repairing his abdominal wound.

“I would like to congratulate you on your accomplishment,” the voice spoke again.

“My accomplishment?” Tyrest repeated.

“Yes, freeing Unicron from his prison. I had never imagined such a feat could be possible.”

“It wasn’t all me,” Tyrest grunted. “I simply activated the Nega-Core that the Heralds assigned to me.”

“Even so, the fact that the Heralds have been this successful is impressive, to say the least. If I may ask, do you know what the endgame of all this will be?”

“Galvatron tells me that Unicron will merge himself with Cybertron.”

The voice was quiet for a moment. “Interesting. Do you know for what purpose?”

Tyrest shook his head. “I am not privy to all of the details, seeing as I am not an official Herald. However, I am aware of the idea that Unicron and Primus — whom many profess Cybertron to be the body of — were once a single entity.”

“Ah, yes. The One — or Daiakuron, as he is known in the old tongue. Do you believe in such legends?”

“I believe in the Guiding Hand — moreso now than I’ve ever been in my life — but I must confess that I am not familiar with many of the other stories.”

“Understandable,” said the voice. “It seems as if the Guiding Hand have become the most prominent out of all of the origin stories the Cybertronian race has come to known.”

Tyrest narrowed his optics, unsure on what to focus his skeptical gaze on as he still could not see the source of the voice. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why did you save me?”

“I’ve already introduced myself,” the voice said. “I am the Grand Architect.”

“I would like to have a proper introduction. May I see your face?”

“I’m afraid I cannot present myself to you physically. I am otherwise preoccupied with other matters,” the Grand Architect replied. “As for your other question, I saved you because I believe you are of worth.”

Tyrest frowned in confusion. “Pardon?”

“I hate to tell you this, but the Heralds of Unicron are not going to keep you around to see their plans brought to fruition. You were merely an agent of their’s who was useful in bringing about their master’s return. Now that you have fulfilled that duty, they will cast you aside and — if you’re lucky — forget that you even exist.

“But you deserve so much more than that, Tyrest. Having accomplished so much in your many years of life — as both chief engineer and Chief Justice — you deserve proper recognition for your success.”

“What are you proposing?”

“I want you to join me, Tyrest,” the Grand Architect said. “We could accomplish so much together; things that would benefit the Cybertronian race for the long run.”

“And we wouldn’t be conflicting with the Heralds of Unicron and their plans?” Tyrest asked.

“Oh, no.” The Grand Architect chuckled. “If anything, I believe we would be complementing the Heralds very well.”

Tyrest did not take long to consider his decision. By that point, his chest had already been fully repaired and he was able to sit upright with minimal difficulty.

“I’m in.”

Present day

“Sir? Did you hear me?”

Tyrest blinked as he came back to the present. He was standing on the bridge of his Worldsweeper, surrounded by his crew of Lunarians. Flame was looking back at him from the front of the ship, a look of concern and confusion on his face.

“Sir?”

“I’m sorry, Flame,” Tyrest replied. “I seem to have spaced out for a moment. What is it?”

“I was saying that transfer of the Ore-4 had been successfully initiated,” Flame said, still eying Tyrest warily.

“Ah. Good. That’s good to hear.”

Tyrest directed his gaze to the viewport of his vessel. Outside were the five replicas of Cybertron that made up what the Grand Architect called “the God Gun.” Each planet was to receive a mixture of all the Regenesis ores — save for Ore-13, which was to come into play later from what he understood. Once each planet was fully “charged,” they would combine their energies to begin “drilling” a hole through the fabric of space and time, all to repel the Beast that the Grand Architect had forewarned to his followers since the day they had joined him.

No one knew who or what the Beast was, of course. Some believed it was a figure of legend, as it was a commonly held belief of certain religious groups that Cybertron would one day be used as a weapon against an ancient deity of evil. Of course, several threats had since come to Cybertron — including Unicron himself — and nothing had come of the legends. Tyrest had tried asking the Grand Architect himself, but all of the answers he had received had been as vague and cryptic as the individual they came from.

It was moments like these that made Tyrest come close to questioning his allegiance. If the Grand Architect did not trust him or the others enough to explain the full extent of his plans and goals, how could any of them trust his word of what was to come? How could any of them know that what any of them were doing was right or that they would be rewarded for their efforts in the end?

Tyrest had come close to voicing these concerns more than once but had always held back, both because he feared the Grand Architect as well as those who were loyal to him, such as Amalgamous Prime. The Lunarians that crewed the Worldsweepers were especially loyal to the Architect, and would turn against Tyrest without a second thought if it were to come to that. For that reason, he stayed silent lest he incur the wrath of someone he did not want to anger. Instead, he would wait things out and pray that he and the others would all benefit in the long run from all of this.

“Transfer of Ore-4 has been successfully completed.” Flame’s voice once again broke Tyrest out of his reverie. “Beginning transfer of Ore-5.”

Tyrest nodded in silence, continuing to stare solemnly at the pristine copies of Cybertron before him.

*  *  *

Light flooded into the chamber that held the imprisoned Vector Prime. The ancient robot readjusted his optical sensors to the unexpected illumination just as a dark figure entered his line of vision.

“Rise and shine,” an all-too-familiar voice said.

Vector Prime frowned to himself. He had lost track of the time that had passed since his capture, since Amalgamous Prime last visited him. He had spent most of that time trying to devise a way to escape, but it seemed as if his captors had taken extra care to make sure he was unable to use any of his powers, whether through Rhisling — which he was no longer in possession of — or other means.

Stepping into the chamber, Amalgamous looked upon his fellow Prime with a wicked grin. He was no longer in a form that replicated Vector’s design but instead one that had a more haphazard appearance, with lanky limbs and a hunched-over torso. His optics gleamed as they went up and down Vector’s body, which was being suspended from the ceiling by chains.

“Sorry to leave you hanging,” the shape-shifting Prime said.

Vector glared at him. “If there is a point to this visit, get to it before I shut off my processor to block out your presence.”

“Rude. Maybe I won’t let you down after all.”

Vector looked at Amalgamous in confusion just as the latter drew a scythe. With a single swing, Amalgamous severed the chains that held his fellow Prime and Vector fell face-first to the floor. Amalgamous extended a hand to help him up but Vector refused it, getting to his feet on his own accord.

“What is the meaning of this?” Vector Prime asked as he dusted himself off.

“We have arrived at our destination,” Amalgamous Prime replied, as if Vector knew what said destination even was. “Some old friends of ours are waiting for us.”

Vector raised an optic ridge. “What old friends?”

Amalgamous grinned, a sight which grated Vector’s nerves. “You know how you said you had not heard from Liege Maximo and the others for some time?”

Dread began to fill Vector’s spark. “Yes….”

“Well, I have. Our old comrade Liege Maximo is waiting for us.” Amalgamous placed a hand on Vector’s shoulder as he leaned in with a leery grin. “And trust me, he is very much looking forward to seeing you.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Cybertron

“He’s still not talking?”

Checkpoint shook his head, staring at the restrained Wipe-Out through the large window separating them. “We’ve tried everything with him. From gentle prodding to aggressive interrogation… we even brought in Stungun to scare him a little. So far, all we’ve gotten out of him is an oil leak.”

Star Saber grimaced as he observed the nervous and jittery Decepticon. As far as he was concerned, Wipe-Out was the only hope anyone had in getting to the Grand Architect and rescuing Rung. As Wipe-Out had been the one who gave Rung’s location away to the Grand Architect, he must have had some form of direct contact with the elusive figure. However, the Decepticon had claimed that he had deleted any contact information he had with the Grand Architect; a claim that Star Saber had strong doubts about.

“He must know something,” he murmured. “Is there anyway we can extract the information from his processor?”

Checkpoint glanced up at him, an optic ridge raised. “You mean through mnemosurgery?”

“Do we have any mnemosurgeons available?”

“Only one I know of is Chromedome, and he’s given up that practice from what I’ve heard. I doubt we could convince him to do it.”

“I know that Chromedome was crewmates with Rung when Rodimus captained the Lost Light,” Star Saber said. “If we told him what was at stake, he might consider it.”

Checkpoint shrugged. “You’re free to give it a shot. I wouldn’t count on it though.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

Checkpoint sighed, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Last I checked, he and his spark-mate Rewind are living here in Iacon. I can give you exact directions once I check the register.”

“Thank you. It may be our only hope in getting to this Grand Architect.”

Star Saber turned and was about to leave when Checkpoint spoke up again.

“Has a decision been made on how we’re going to deal with the Decepticons?”

Star Saber stopped to look at him. “Elita is still discussing it with the Council,” he replied. “I’m not aware of any decisions that have been made, if any.”

“Right,” Checkpoint grunted. “’Cos, you know, Megatron being back is kind of a big deal. Much bigger than rescuing this friend of yours.”

Star Saber narrowed his optics at the officer. “Rung is more important than you realize. The Grand Architect obviously wants him for a reason and, based on all of our encounters with those who serve him, it clearly can’t be anything good.”

“If you say so,” Checkpoint muttered. “I still think Megatron’s return is a more pressing and far more evident matter of concern.”

“You’re right, it is. That’s why all of our resources are being split in order to address all of the many, many issues at hand.”

“Still seems like a slipshod way of doing things. If Optimus was still leader, we would be a lot more focused.”

Star Saber frowned beneath his mouthplate. “I’ve heard that Optimus — or Orion Pax has agreed to help us.”

“Yeah, but is he leading us? We’re going to need one until or if we get Rodimus back.”

“Elita and I are sharing command, along with the rest of the Council. It may not be the best solution, but—”

“You’ve got that right.” Turning sharply on his heel, Checkpoint began to head out of the room. “Give me five minutes and I’ll get you Chromedome’s location. Then you can continue this futile detour of yours.”

“It’s not futile when it’s another Autobot’s life on the line,” Star Saber retorted.

“All of our lives on the line,” Checkpoint shot back. “It’s not just the life of one. Even if you do manage to save Rang, or whatever his name is, how many Autobots will have fallen to Megatron by then? As someone who’s supposed to be leading us, that’s something you should be taking into consideration.”

Star Saber opened his mouth to argue further only for Checkpoint to turn his back to him.

“If you ask me, your time is better spent elsewhere,” the officer muttered as he walked away. “Of course, no one ever asks me….”

Star Saber found himself at a loss for words as Checkpoint departed from the room, leaving him alone with the silent Wipe-Out.

*  *  *

“I’ve gotta admit, I am feeling slightly agitated about this whole thing.”

“Don’t worry, Cosmos, this isn’t an interrogation,” Nightbeat said as he motioned the green-and-yellow Autobot to sit down at a small table in just-as-small room. “We just want to have a quick talk with you.”

“I’m still getting major interrogation vibes here.” Cosmos glanced nervously between Nightbeat and Skids, the latter who was standing with his back against the door. “Like, could you guys try to be just a little bit less intimidating?”

Skids sighed. “We just want some answers, Cosmos. You were the one who first encountered the Destructons in the Muta-Gaath Nebula, when they captured Omega Supreme.”

“Yes, and I filed my report as soon as I got back to Cybertron!” Cosmos replied. “Can’t you just bring it up and read it for yourselves instead of… doing this?”

“We want to hear from your first-hand,” Nightbeat said, taking a seat across from him. “When you found Omega Supreme, what state was he in?”

Cosmos slumped against his seat. “He looked as if he had been dragged through hell and back. I don’t know who did it to him or why. It was probably the Destructons, but—”

“Were the Destructons there when you found him?”

“No. I didn’t see them until a few hours after I called for help.”

“Did you hear them say anything?”

Cosmos spared a moment to think. “They were talking about using a Transwarp device, which they used to take Omega Supreme away. I… I don’t remember hearing anything else before they attacked me.”

“What about Omega?” asked Skids. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He was repeating some kind of mantra when I found him. ‘Prepare, confront, repel,’ I believe it was. Then he told me to get the hell out of there, which… looking back, I probably should have.”

“Is that all?” Nightbeat asked.

Cosmos nodded. “That was when the Destructons found me, and then you guys showed up. Can’t give you anything more than that.”

“Well, that doesn’t really help us much,” Skids muttered. “We still don’t know what the Destructons wanted with Omega Supreme or where he even is now.”

Nightbeat rubbed his chin. “Clearly, this calls for a much deeper investigation.”

Skids gave him a look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We have to retrace our steps and go back to where this whole mess started in the first place: the Muta-Gaath Nebula.”

Skids frowned at him. “And what exactly do you expect we will find there?”

“Anything! Answers, clues, you name it! We would have a better chance finding them there then we would peddling around here on Cybertron.”

“In any case, you would have to clear it with Star Saber or Elita. The Muta-Gaath is dangerous territory to begin with and to go someplace that the Destructons have already been is pushing it into suicidal levels.”

Nightbeat smirked at him. “And teleporting yourself onto Tyrest’s ship isn’t?”

Skids looked as if he was about to retort but couldn’t come up with a strong enough response. Instead, he let out a huff as he returned his gaze to Cosmos. “You’ve still got directions to the Muta-Gaath, don’t you?”

“I….” Cosmos hesitated for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Hold on to them. We just might need them sooner than you think.”

*  *  *

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Rewind,” Star Saber said, standing just outside Chromedome and Rewind’s living quarters. “I was asking—”

“No.” Rewind shook his head, arms crossed defiantly over his chest. “I will say it a hundred times if I have to. I’ve got plenty of time.”

Star Saber frowned as he glanced between Rewind and Chromedome, who was rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Help me out here,” Star Saber said to the latter.

“I don’t practice mnemosurgery anymore,” Chromedome replied. “I physically can’t. If I do, the process would instantly kill me. The reason you don’t see many mnemosurgeons around is because of how high the mortality rate is among practitioners.”

“That is unfortunate. So there is no way you can help?”

Chromedome shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Look, we’ve heard about everything involving Rung,” Rewind said. “Believe me, we are just as worried as everyone else; he was with us for many of our adventures on the Lost Light. But I don’t think Chromedome would be of any help by doing what you want him to do.”

Star Saber nodded solemnly. “I understand. I don’t suppose you know of any other mnemosurgeons who can help?”

While Rewind shook his head, Chromedome tapped the chin of his mouthplate. “Actually… I might know someone.”

Rewind looked up at him in surprise. “For real?”

“When the others and I were abducted by the Titan Masters, I got the sense that the Cyberdroid controlling my body knew something about mnemosurgery. It felt like someone was swimming through my mind, digging up old memories.”

Star Saber looked at him intently. “Do you happen to know the name of this Titan Master?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I believe his name was Stylor.”

“Stylor.” Star Saber repeated the name, committing it to memory. “Well, I’m glad you remember that because it just so happens that we’ve made friends with some of the Titan Masters. Hopefully Stylor is still with them and will be willing to help.”

“Good luck with that,” Rewind said as he and Chromedome headed back inside.

“Yeah, and try not to do anything too shady,” Chromedome advised. “Trust me, it’s very easy to fall down that path.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Once the pair had closed their door, Star Saber turned and was about to transform when he noticed a pair of blue cars speeding up to him. Recognizing them as Nightbeat and Skids, Star Saber stayed put as the two Crusadercons transformed and walked up him.

“Captain,” Nightbeat started, “we need to return to the Muta-Gaath.”

Star Saber eyed the detective carefully. “Come again?”

“Nightbeat thinks we would be able to find some clues regarding the Destructons and their plans there,” Skids explained.

“It is where we first encountered them, after all,” Nightbeat elaborated. “Not to mention the fact that they captured Omega Supreme there, and we still don’t know what they have planned for him.”

Star Saber folded his arms over his chest. “And what makes you think we would find anything there?”

“Call it a hunch. A very good hunch, at that.” Nightbeat grinned as he spread his arms wide. “Have my hunches ever steered you wrong?”

“Well, there was that time at Aeglus Four—”

“That doesn’t count,” Nightbeat hastily said. “That was just an adventure caused by a mistranslation.”

Skids cleared his vocal processor. “So, what’s it going to be? Each minute we spend debating is another minute Rung or Omega Supreme potentially loses. Cosmos says he’s got the coordinates, so we just need the ship.”

Star Saber sighed as he stared at Nightbeat. “You are absolutely sure about this ‘hunch’ of yours?”

“Captain,” Nightbeat said firmly, “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

“I’m pretty certain you’ve said that more than once to me,” Star Saber muttered. “But, in any case… give me some time to talk to Elita, as well as to call up some bots. Meet me back at the Lost Light in two mega-cycles.”

“Yes!” While Nightbeat pumped his fist triumphantly, Skids gave Star Saber a surprised look.

“Wow. Just like that? To be honest, I was expecting a bit more resistance to the idea.”

“Believe me, a large part of me wants to shoot down your idea,” Star Saber replied. “However, I’m as desperate as you are at this point. We are going to save Rung and put a stop to the Destructons once and for all.”

“Sounds good,” Skids said. “But what if Elita says no?”

“Last time I checked, she isn’t Prime. Besides, she’s already given me the approval to focus on rescuing Rung. Hopefully, this endeavor will lead us towards fulfilling that goal.”

“If that’s the case,” Skids said, glancing pointedly at Nightbeat, “this hunch of yours better not steer us wrong.”

The detective grinned at him. “Skids, my old friend, I’m right there with you.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Earth

Sari rang the doorbell to her own home for what had to have been the hundredth time. With ever passing minute of no answer, the more her anxiety began to increase. The fact that she was still exhausted from having flown all the way from Europe on thrusters built into her own body did not help matters, nor did the recent revelation that she was, in fact, some kind of human-Transformer. She still couldn’t believe such a thing now existed, and that she was the prime example of one.

After ringing the doorbell another seven or eight times, she finally convinced herself that her father was simply not at home. Where he could be, she had no idea; all she could think of now was to find a way to break into her own house without setting off any alarms. Isaac Sumdac was ten steps ahead of everyone in Detroit and had installed the best of the best in terms of security tech. She would have to somehow outsmart her own father if she had any hope of getting inside.

Stepping away from the door, she looked down at the mat placed in front of it. While she knew her dad would have done something far more complicated than to hide a key into the mat, she had to make sure she had checked every possible spot for some secret way inside before having to resort to brute force.

Bending down, she pulled off the doormat… and found a key laying right there.

Sari quietly sighed. Perhaps she had overestimated her father.

She picked up the key and unlocked her way into the house. Inside, everything was eerily still and quiet. Dust coated the furniture while paper and supplies littered the floor. For whatever reason, the maid-bots her father had made for the explicit purpose of taking care of his home while he was gone (or even while he was there) had failed to fulfill their programming. In fact, all of the weird robots she remembered living with while growing up — including her Tutor-Bot and pet “dog-bot” Sparkplug — were laying deactivated in different spots of the house, as if they had just ran out of fuel and were never recharged.

She knew her dad loved to go on vacations when he could and spent many hours at his offices… but how long had it been since he had lived here? She remembered the last time she had seen him in this house was right before she moved to California, which would have been a year ago. Had he just abandoned this house since then, not wishing to live here without her?

Knowing she wouldn’t get any answers by just standing around, Sari headed for the only place she could think of to find those answers: her father’s office. After carefully navigating her way through the maze of boxes and office supplies that dominated the office, she made her way to her dad’s computer and booted it up. Naturally, it prompted her for a password. Her mind was too unfocused for her to think of any likely passwords and she instead turned to rummaging through the desk. A vast majority of them were patents and paperwork associated with Sumdac Systems and its subsidiaries; nothing that would have been of interest to her.

As she tossed a stapled stack of boring paperwork to the side, a small sticky note flew out of it and landed on her feet. Picking it up, she began to read the string of numbers written upon the blue piece of paper.

12577. Use only for Project: Cadmus.

Sari had no idea what “Project: Cadmus” was or meant (though she quickly recognized that it was her family’s name spelled backwards), but she figured the number was good as any for a potential password. Returning to the computer, she inputted the digits before striking the enter key. To her surprise and relief, it went through and she was presented with her father’s desktop.

To her surprise and shock, it was nothing she expected from an ordinary desktop.

The background was all black and covered from corner to corner with folders and files, all with indecipherable names. How anyone could work with and find their way through such a setup, she had no idea, though obviously her father had found some way to manage with it. Not knowing where to begin, she randomly double-clicked on a folder only to be presented with even more files and folders. Clearly, Isaac Sumdac had done everything in his power to keep his secret projects secret.

Abandoning this endeavor, realizing it would be fruitless, she threw herself into her dad’s old, squeaky office chair and pulled out her phone. It had somehow survived everything she had gone through unscathed; simultaneously miraculous was the fact that it still had enough battery juice in it left to make a call. Without hesitation, she accessed her contacts and called the first name (after her father’s) on the list, silently praying that they were still alive.

*  *  *

“Darby, I would like to see you after class.”

Jack could barely hear the professor’s voice over the ringing of the bell and the ringing in his own head. So much had happened between now and the last time he had sat in this classroom that it was surreal that he was even back here to begin with. He was honestly surprised he hadn’t been dropped for having missed so many days of attendance, though Professor Colan’s mind was as much an enigma as everything surrounding the events of the past few weeks.

As the rest of the class filed out of the room, Professor Colan leaned against his desk, keeping his bespectacled eyes on Jack the entire time. It wasn’t until the whole room was empty save for the two of them did Colan finally speak.

“Did you enjoy your vacation?”

The incredibly thick layer of sarcasm in the instructor’s voice did not go unnoticed by Jack. Not really in the mood to challenge it, he shrugged. “I’ve had better.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. You strike me as the kind of person who has exciting adventures every single day.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Not really. The past couple of weeks have just been… hectic.”

Colan arched an eyebrow. “Do tell. I am open-minded enough to consider the very remote possibility that any story you cook up may be convincing enough to be a satisfactory excuse.”

Jack closed his eyes as he sighed heavily. “Look, my friend went missing and—”

“Oh, yes, I know all about that. You think I haven’t heard that the daughter of the famous Isaac Sumdac who just so happens to be a student of this school has gone missing? Darby, I hear it every. Freaking. Day. People are already pointing fingers at the faculty for having done something to her or God knows what. She isn’t even in any of my classes and they’re swinging the Sword of Damocles over my head.”

Jack eyed the professor warily, uncertain where he was going with this conversation.

“Listen,” Colan went on, “I know you’re upset about your friend. I know it’s one of those things where you need to take some time to yourself and… regroup or whatever. However, you know that I’m not the type of teacher who accepts any kind of excuse, good or bad. If you miss class, you miss class and pay the consequences. I should have dropped you the moment you walked in today.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jack asked.

“Because I like your work, Darby. You’re one of my favorite students. You have submitted some of the best work I’ve seen in… well, at least since last semester. You know, there’s always that one person in every class who is just a god amongst men when it comes to a given subject.”

Jack sighed, his hands already on the straps of his backpack. “So I’m still in the class.”

“For now,” Colan said pointedly. “You’re still treading on thin ice. And who knows, I may change my mind tomorrow and kick your ass out of here as soon as I see your face. Point is, I’m doing something I’ve never done before and giving you a second chance. Don’t let it go to waste, Darby.”

“I won’t. Thank you, sir.” With that, Jack quickly got up and headed out of the class room, blowing out his breath as soon as he was far away enough. “God, what a nut job.”

“Hey, Jack.”

Jack turned around to see a blond girl in a white dress walking up to him, holding her textbooks to her chest. In any other circumstance, his heart probably would have been banging to the beat of a war drum; but today, his mind was focused on more pressing matters than the prospect of potential relationships.

“Hey, Alice,” he replied, waiting for her to catch up before walking alongside her down the hall.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she remarked.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, offering her no further elaboration.

He could feel her gaze on him as they continued walking. “I heard about Sari,” she said. “She was your friend, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she was.”

“Were you there when it happened?”

This brought Jack to a sudden stop as he turned around to look at Alice. “Pardon?”

“Were you there when it happened?” she repeated. “Both of you stopped attending classes around the same time, and now you’re back and she isn’t.”

Jack opened his mouth to say something but found no words. Without warning, Alice reached out and gently grabbed his arm.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said quietly. “I’m just… a very inquisitive person. You know that, right?”

She flashed him a pearly white smile that bordered on the thin line between sincerity and phoniness. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of it and, frankly, wasn’t in the mood of trying to figure it out.

Slowly pulling his arm away from her, he said, “Listen, I’d love to catch up with you but I’ve gotta meet up with my dorm-mates. I promised them I would attend their next D&D session and—”

“Oh, I understand,” Alice replied. “Maybe some other time we could get together and… talk.”

Again, in a different life Jack would have been hearing alarm bells ringing in his head at the ever-so-slightly suggestive tone in her voice. Instead, he simply gave her a curt, “Yeah, see ya,” before continuing his walk down the hall. As he got to the staircase, a million things running through his mind, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Figuring it was Raf or someone else from the RP group, he pulled out his phone and answered it without reading the caller ID.

“Sorry, Raf, I know I’m running late. Professor Colan kept me around and—”

“Jack? It’s Sari.”

At this, Jack nearly missed a step and tripped down the stairs. Quickly recovering his balance, he moved away from the staircase and found a small alcove to stand in while other students walked on by. Holding the phone close to his ear, he said, “Sari? Is this really you? Where the hell are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Sari replied, though it didn’t sound like it in her voice. “I’m at my dad’s house in Detroit. I have no idea where he is. I—”

“How did you escape? That giant scorpion robot took you and—”

“It’s a very, very long story, Jack,” Sari said, sounding exhausted. “I was wondering if you’re still in contact with that Fowler guy. Maybe he could pick me up and bring me back to California so I can explain everything.”

“I think Raf can help with that; his mom is one of the few agents still working for him.” Jack exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m glad you’re all right, Sari. I was— we’ve all been very worried about you.”

He heard her sigh over the phone. “I know. I’ve been worried about myself, if I’m being honest,” she said with a slight chuckle. “My phone battery’s low, so I have to hang up now; I need to have enough juice for when Fowler or whoever calls.”

“Right, right. I understand. Talk to you soon, hopefully.”

“Hopefully.”

With that, the phone went silent. Jack blew out a breath of relief before preparing a text message to send to Raf. The sooner he got this ball rolling, the sooner this mess could be sorted out.

If at all, of course.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Cybertron, Cycle 8114 (over 1,700 years ago)

Located in the middle of Cybertron’s wilderness — unexplored territory that not even the bravest pioneer dared venture into — the solitary fortress stood alone amid a forest of wires and circuitry. Centuries of neglect manifested itself in the form of rust coating the exterior of the fortress, giving the impression that no one currently resided. Of course, that was exactly the idea, and was the reason why no one had visited the fortress in over three thousand years.

No one, that is, besides Hydra.

The red-and-black jet flew out of the foliage of circuitry before transforming into her robot mode, landing just before the entrance to the fortress. Almost immediately, a metallic stalk with a round end popped out from a spot just above the large door. It looked down at Hydra and waved a red light over her. After a moment, the light turned green and the stalk retracted back inside as the large door opened.

“Welcome, Hydra of Vos. You may enter.”

Wordlessly, Hydra stepped foot into the fortress and began making her way down the long hallway, using her lights to navigate the darkness after the door had closed behind her. At the end of the hall, she reached an elevator which took her to the highest level of the building, though not without a chorus of screeching as it moved for the first time in years. As the elevator laboriously came to a halt, the doors opened and Hydra set foot into the barely lit room. A lone figure stood before her with their back turned, standing hunched over a worktable covered with tools and datapads.

Without turning around, the sole resident of the fortress said, “What compels you to bother me once more, Hydra of Vos?”

Hydra frowned as she took a step forward. “It’s been a hundred years since my last visit, Termagax.”

“Even a century is but a blip of time in my optics now,” Termagax said wearily. The silver-and-gold bot turned away from her work to look at Hydra, her optics old and tired. “What is it you seek from me this time?”

Hydra shook her head. “I seek nothing from you. I simply—”

“Then you are wasting both of our times,” Termagax said curtly. “If I have nothing of value to offer you, then you have no reason to be here.”

“I have as much reason as any of your former students,” Hydra shot back. “Not that you ever let them in.”

“I do when they require something of me. So far, in all of the years since my exile, you have been the only one to return to me.”

“And yet here you are, pushing me away.”

Termagax’s optics narrowed as she regarded Hydra skeptically. “Either state your reasons for coming here or leave me be.”

Hydra huffed as she crossed her arms. “I’ve taken on a ward of my own,” she said quietly. “His name is Optronix.”

“And?” Termagax asked, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone.

“And… I think he’s the one, Termagax. The one we’ve talked about.”

At this, Termagax fell silent, her expression turning solemn. “You’re still clinging onto that vision, Hydra? Even after all this time?”

“We both know that Cybertron needs proper leadership if it is to prosper in this supposed Golden Age,” Hydra replied. “Sentinel Prime is obviously not suited for that role, as much as the High Council likes to prop him up.”

“And you believe this Optronix of yours will be?” Termagax asked. “How long has he been online?”

“Two months. He’s already begun training under Impactor.”

Termagax sighed as she shook her head. “Hydra, this is far too early to know whether or not he’ll be—”

“You haven’t even seen him yet.”

Before Termagax could reply, Hydra held up her hand and activated a small holo-projector in her palm, displaying the image of a red and black bot. He had a sturdy frame and strong features, with a faceplate covering his face. As Termagax stared at the hologram with an intrigued look, Hydra allowed herself a small smile.

“You may not believe it now… but I am fully confident that I have found the Arisen.”

Earth, present day

The door slid open as soon as Scourge had approached it, granting him entry into Trypticon’s command center.

The room was dark, all of its systems appearing to be offline. As Scourge understood it, Trypticon was the type of Titan who preferred to operate himself, rather than rely on some crew. Although, an exception was made for the lone, purple-colored figure sitting in the command chair situated in the center of the room. The bot did not move until Scourge drew closer to him, at which point the mech’s visor lit up and he stirred from his slumped position.

“What… who is…?” His gaze fell upon Scourge. “Who are you?”

“My name is Scourge,” the dark copy of Optimus Prime replied. “Shockwave tells me that you go by the name of Full-Tilt.”

“Full-Tilt,” the bot repeated, as if it was a name that belonged to someone besides himself. “Right. Yeah. That sounds about right.” He cleared his vocal processor as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Excuse me for asking, but where are we?”

“Earth,” Scourge replied.

“Earth?” Full-Tilt’s visor flashed. “Oh, god, not again. I thought we’d left that place. Why are we back here? What’s happened since we left?”

Scourge shook his head. “I don’t have the patience for this. I would like to make a request to Trypticon.”

Full-Tilt stared at Scourge, his visor and faceplate making his expression difficult to discern. “A request? To… to Trypticon? As in the Titan we’re in right now?”

“I’m not aware of any others.”

“Um, I’m not sure if you can… do that. Trypticon isn’t really the type who… likes having others tell him what to do.”

“It is not my concern whether he likes it or not,” Scourge growled. “He will do as I command.”

Full-Tilt seemed to look doubtful but nonetheless shrugged his shoulders. “All right, I guess. What’s your request?”

“I want him to produce two sparks and forge a new body.”

Full-Tilt was silent for a moment as he stared at Scourge, nonplussed. Suddenly, the room around them shook as a low voice began to reverberate all around them.

“You ask me — a Titan of Destruction — to produce… life?” Trypticon rumbled.

“I am not asking you,” Scourge replied. “I am commanding you.”

“Nobody commands Trypticon!”

“It was I who gave you life,” Scourge said sharply. “Or, rather, it was Megatron who gave you life; the same Megatron whom I share this body with.”

At the sound of the Decepticon leader’s name, everything went still. When Trypticon spoke again, his voice was in a deadly whisper.

“Megatron?”

“Correct,” Scourge said. “If you wish to continue living, I suggest you do as I say. After all, we have the capacity to operate even a dead Titan.”

At first, there was only silence. Then, a slight tremor rolled through the room as Trypticon responded in a low growl.

“As you command… Lord Megatron.”

Satisfied with this, Scourge turned and departed without another word. As soon as he was gone, the door slammed shut and Full-Tilt immediately looked up to the ceiling; it was his only point of reference when speaking to the Titan he inhabited.

“I’m surprise you didn’t kill him when you had the chance. Or have me kill him. Or am I you? God, I don’t even know at this point.”

“Silence,” Trypticon rumbled. “It is too early for me to give myself away. We must first assess the present situation and figure out who this Grand Architect is and what his plans for us are. Then, when the moment is right, we will make our move.”

Full-Tilt sighed. “Why are you evil despots so fond of playing the waiting game?”

Trypticon chuckled. “Because those are the games that always have the most satisfying conclusions.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Prologue

PROLOGUE

One year ago, after the Thunderwing War

Convoy stared at the magnificent field of stars displayed before his yellow optical sensors. It was the same field of stars that he had been staring at for the past couple of hours, and it had become no less intimidating than it had been before.

“I don’t see how we’re going to be able to find them in all of this,” he muttered.

“At least be grateful that our scope is as narrow as it is,” replied Onyx Prime, standing beside him on the bridge of their shared vessel. “Metrotitan’s sensors indicate that Vigilem should be in this region of space. We are in the right place.”

“Even so, this is taking longer than it should. Can’t Metrotitan teleport to Vigilem’s exact location?”

“If he could, we would’ve found him by now,” stated Nexus Prime. The five components of the combiner Prime — speaking in unison — were standing at Metrotitan’s central computer, observing the Titan’s navigational controls. “Liege Maximo is surely using some kind of cloaking technology to hide from us.”

Convoy shifted, bristling with impatience. “Can we at least find a way to connect space bridges? There has to be a way quicker than this.”

Onyx Prime looked down at Convoy with a cocked optic ridge. “Why are you in such a hurry, brother? I don’t remember you being this impatient back in the day.”

“A lot of things have happened to me since those days,” Convoy grunted. “Besides, this is Liege Maximo we’re dealing with; he’s gotten away with too much for far too long. If it wasn’t for him, we never would have become divided.”

“I can’t help but doubt that. With all of our clashing views and personalities, a split was bound to happen.”

Convoy sighed but did not bother responding. Despite their alliance, Convoy was still wary of his fellow Primes — Onyx in particular — knowing their plans for conquering Cybertron before Quintus Prime and her machinations had sent those plans awry. Once they had found and dealt with Liege Maximo, what was going to stop the two of them from returning to their schemes?

He was forced to push such thoughts aside when Nexus Prime suddenly spoke up again. “We’ve found something.”

Convoy and Onyx looked over at the five components. “Is it Vigilem?” the former asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Nexus replied. “I said we found something.”

“Then tell us what that something is.”

“Putting in coordinates now. I don’t know how to describe it, so just… brace yourselves.”

Convoy returned his attention to the viewport as Metrotitan started to move. As the Titan began to advance at ten parsecs per minute, Convoy spotted what appeared to be a system of five planets fast approaching. Only, the planets were far closer in proximity than what was expected of a typical star system; in fact, they seemed to have been arranged in a specific formation. A small moon-sized station hovered over all five of the metallic spheres. As Metrotitan drew even closer, Convoy realized that the five planets — while all different in color — had an uncanny resemblance to Cybertron.

A loud ping sounded from Metrotitan’s controls. “We’ve lost contact with Brave Maximus,” Nexus Prime reported, concern in his voice.

Convoy glanced out the viewport to see that the Titan that had once served Quintus Prime was nowhere to be seen. Before he could say anything, the room began to shake violently, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto the floor.

“We’re being pulled in!” Nexus Prime exclaimed, his central component clinging onto the main computer while the other four held onto each other.

“Pulled into where?” Convoy asked as he struggled to get back to his feet.

“I don’t know! Everything is…. Nothing is responding!”

Convoy looked to Onyx Prime. To his surprise, the beast Prime appeared to be absolutely calm, as if he was oblivious to everything happening around him.

“Onyx, talk to me,” Convoy said. “Do you have any idea what’s going—”

Without warning, Onyx Prime reached down and grabbed Convoy, lifting him off the ground. As the blue mech cried in protest, Onyx spun around and hurled him through the viewport, sending him crashing through it and into the coldness of space. As Convoy spun in zero-gravity, he spotted Onyx Prime taking off after him followed by Nexus Prime’s components, who reassembled themselves into Nexus’ combiner form before tackling Onyx from behind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Convoy heard Nexus cry over their shared comm-link. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Onyx’s only response was a bestial roar as he turned around and threw his fist into Nexus’ face, knocking the other Prime off of him. Nexus quickly recovered and threw himself at Onyx again, exchanging blows with the black-and-orange gestalt. Throughout the fight, Onyx Prime became gradually more and more beast-like, demonstrating a ferocity that Convoy had never seen from him before. It got to the point where Convoy wondered if Onyx was even still in control of his own body….

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Onyx suddenly tore off Nexus Prime’s right arm from his connection point, eliciting a pained scream from the combiner. After tearing the arm component to shreds, Onyx went for Nexus’ left leg and proceeded to repeat the action. Drawing his gun, Convoy fired at Onyx but all of his shots bounced off of the beast Prime’s armor plating as if they were nothing. Unable to move himself to their position, Convoy could only watch helplessly as Onyx destroyed Nexus’ other arm, leaving him with nothing but a body and a single leg.

Rather than finish off the combiner Prime, Onyx instead shifted his attention to Convoy. The blue bot raised his gun again and prepared to fire only to suddenly find himself laying upon solid ground. Onyx and Nexus were nowhere to be seen and the void of space that had surrounded them was replaced with a gold ceiling and walls, dominated by statues and other decorative pieces.

“I am so sorry you had to see all of that,” a deep, grating voice spoke out. “It was difficult to get a lock on your position.”

Convoy jumped to his feet, already knowing to whom that voice belonged. “Show yourself, Liege Maximo!” he shouted, readying his weapon.

The voice laughed. “And give you a chance to kill me? You act as if I don’t know that you’ve been pursuing me for the past several weeks.”

“I don’t have time for your games, Maximo. I demand an explanation.”

“If I gave you one, would you believe it? I am the Prime of Lies, after all.”

This response gave Convoy pause. Before he could process it any further, he felt an invisible force seize him and lift him up into the air.

“But since you asked so nicely, I will gladly give you one,” Liege Maximo said as Convoy was hauled into darkness. “You, more than anyone, deserve to know.”

ALIGNMENT

Part 1: The Truth of a Thousand Lies

Transformers Regenerated: Alpha and Omega, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Protohex, ten years later

“STEEL-BANE! STEEL-BANE!”

Hearing the crowd chant his name energized the warrior as he lunged at his opponent. Already heavily injured, with energon gushing out of the large wound in his shoulder, the other gladiator could only raise his shield as Steelbane threw his sword at him. The blade hit the shield with a loud clang and added yet another dent to its large collection of them. Steelbane repeated this motion until he successfully knocked the shield out of the other bot’s arm and onto the ground.

“STEEL-BANE! STEEL-BANE!”

As the roar of the crowd grew louder, the unarmed and defenseless gladiator looked up at Steelbane with pleading eyes. “P-please,” he said, coughing up oil. “Have mercy.”

Steelbane laughed and raised his sword high above his head. “The world has no mercy. Why should I?”

He brought the blade down and the sounds of the audience drowned out the dying screams of the hapless warrior. Leaving his sword wedged into his opponent’s skull, Steelbane raised his arms and basked in the glory of his victory.

High above in the auditorium, watching the fight from his personalized booth, Septimus Prime applauded his champion. This fight had been Steelbane’s seventh victory in as many weeks and Septimus could not have been prouder. He knew he had gotten a good deal on Steelbane’s very first day in the arena, after he had practically devoured Septimus’ past champion. Regulus Prime was surely regretting handing over one of his greatest warriors, but Septimus could not bring himself to care.

“Fetch me another cylinder of unfiltered energon,” he ordered one of his servants. “This is going to deserve a toast.”

While the servant hurried off, another approached the Prime from the other side, hands clasped together as he bowed his head.

“Master, you have a visitor at the front gates.”

“Tell them to wait,” Septimus Prime replied, flipping a hand. “I am preoccupied.”

“Master, with all due respect, they seem to be someone important. They claim to be from Kutanzuule.”

This name caused Septimus to shift in his seat. “Kutanzuule?” he repeated. “The city of the Great Archives? But that’s where… that’s where the House of Trion rules.”

The servant nodded. “I believe one of them was wearing the facial insignia.”

“Well, in that case….” Septimus Prime rose from his seat. “Prepare Steelbane for an extra match. I will deliver my speech later.”

“Master, all we have left are Mini-Cons—”

“It doesn’t matter. The crowd will eat it up.” Septimus Prime grinned to himself. “Besides, it’s past time for Steelbane’s meal.”

*  *  *

Omega Trion shifted uneasily as he and Alpha stood before the gates to Castle Protohex. Alpha Trion noticed his discomfort and inclined his head towards him.

“Why so nervous, brother?”

“Something about this place feels off,” Omega muttered. “I’m not sure I like it so far.”

Alpha considered this as he listened to the sounds of voracious cheering in the distance. “Well, it’s no Kutanzuule, I’ll give you that. I suppose not every place on Cybertron can be a quiet library.”

“Why are we even here? Who is this Septimus Prime that we’re dealing with?”

“Patience, my friend. All will be clear soon.”

Omega frowned at his mentor’s vagueness but remained dutifully quiet. A few minutes later, the doors to Castle Protohex were pulled open and a servant bot stood there to greet them.

“Septimus Prime will see you now.”

The two Trion brothers followed the servant as he led them into castle. They didn’t get far before they were greeted by a gold and green mech decked out in regal armor plating, complete with an unnecessary cape flowing behind his small frame. Upon seeing Alpha Trion, he raised his arms in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t the wise Alpha Trion himself! I figured it was you when I heard the visitors were from Kutanzuule.”

He strode over to Alpha Trion and took the sage’s hands into his, shaking them graciously.

“It’s been too long, my friend,” Septimus Prime said with an earnest smile.

Alpha allowed himself to return it. “Indeed. Last time I saw you, you were simply called S-7. I am pleased to see that you have turned your life around.”

Septimus chuckled. “Don’t I know it? Please, make yourselves at home. I can happily provide you with some of the finest fuels Protohex has to offer.”

Alpha shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ll have to decline. Omega and I are simply here for business purposes.”

“Ah.” Septimus Prime glanced at Omega, as if noticing him for the first time. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

“This is Omega Trion,” Alpha said before Omega had a chance to speak. “He is a recent addition to the House of Trion and my current protege.”

“Has he been forged recently?” Septimus asked, raising an optic ridge.

“Yes,” Alpha said carefully. “He is part of the generation borne from Warriors Gate ten years ago.”

“Interesting.” Septimus Prime regarded Omega for a moment before turning back to Alpha. “Well then, if it is business purposes you wish to discuss, then I’m afraid you will have to wait a bit. We are currently in the middle of a match.”

“That is quite all right. We don’t mind waiting.”

“Perhaps you would like to sit with me and watch for yourselves? My greatest champion is participating as we speak.”

Alpha Trion touched the edge of his facial plates. “Yes, actually,” he said quietly. “That sounds like an inviting idea.”

*  *  *

“STEEL-BANE! STEEL-BANE!”

Omega felt his audio sensors ring from the sheer sound of the crowds roaring and cheering all around the arena, which did not mix well with the clanging of metal and cries for mercy coming from down below. In many ways, Protohex was the polar opposite of quiet Kutanzuule… and Omega couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.

He watched as the warrior known as Steelbane transformed into a serpentine dragon and charged towards the last of his Mini-Con opponents. The diminutive Cybertronian screamed as he tried to run from the dragon but was unable to escape the column of fire coming his way. The flames engulfed the Mini-Con’s frame, leaving behind nothing but a burnt crisp of a corpse.

While Steelbane returned to his robot mode to accept the crowd’s cheers of appraisal, Omega heard Alpha Trion make a sound of disapproval.

“This is utterly barbaric. The matches in Dodecahex aren’t anywhere near as violent as this.”

“Regulus is a more business-oriented Prime,” Septimus said, leaning back in his seat as he drank from his goblet of engex. “He holds matches to decide which warriors he should sell or purchase. We, on the other hand, are focused on weeding out the strong from the weak. How else are we supposed to survive in this harsh world that the Knights of Cybertron have left us?”

Alpha Trion frowned as he looked down at Steelbane, who was still basking in his own glory. “Your champion appears to be a beast-former. Did the shepherd Onyx entrust him with your care?”

“Who?” Septimus Prime gave him a confused look. “No, I bought him off Regulus. I had to give up three of my best warriors to seal the deal but, honestly? It was worth it.”

Alpha huffed as he folded his arms. “Well, I hope you are still open to making another deal, because that is why we are here.”

Both Omega and Septimus looked at him in surprise. “You are?” the latter said. “I didn’t think Kutanzuule participated in matches.”

“We don’t,” Alpha said. “But one of your warriors is someone of great importance to the House of Trion.”

Septimus’ optics narrowed. “If you are here for Steelbane, then I am afraid—”

“It’s not Steelbane.”

“Oh.” Septimus relaxed a bit but still seemed somewhat apprehensive. “Who then?”

“Can we take this conversation outside? Away from… prying audio sensors?”

“Oh, of course, of course.”

Septimus Prime rose from his seat and led the two Trion brothers out of his private booth. Omega spared a quick minute to look back at the victorious Steelbane before following his brother.

The three of them made their way to the Prime’s personal chambers. After dismissing his servants, Septimus took a seat at his (somewhat oversized) throne while Alpha and Omega Trion stood before him.

“That’s more like it,” Septimus said cheerily. “Now then, give me a name; I can’t help you if you don’t tell me who it is you—”

“Logos.”

Septimus Prime jolted at the sound of the name. He quickly regained his composure (though not in a convincing manner) and laughed. “I’m sorry. For a minute, I thought you said—”

“You know what I said, Septimus,” Alpha said coldly.

The Prime shifted uncomfortably in his throne and cleared his vocal processor. “I’m curious as to how you even know that name.”

“I was present for his forging,” Alpha Trion replied. “The hot spot he was born from isn’t far from Kutanzuule. He was supposed to be in our care until he went missing.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about that,” Septimus Prime said, a bit too hastily for Omega’s liking. “I can’t always keep track of where my servants and warriors come from. It’s simply not my concern.”

“But it is mine.” Alpha Trion crossed his arms. “I would like to see him. Now.”

Septimus Prime eyed him warily. “This isn’t like you, A-3,” he murmured. “I thought you were a pacifist now, ever since the revolution ended.”

“It’s only been twenty-five years since the revolution. My warrior days aren’t that far behind me.”

Omega Trion watched Septimus carefully as the Prime’s optics darted to the side. The ruler of Protohex fidgeted in his seat again, readjusting his shoulder pads.

“While I would love to help you, I’m afraid I do not know where Logos is. He may be here or I may have sold him off to one of the other kingdoms. I simply cannot—”

“Just tell us where he is!” Omega snapped, stepping forward. “Stop playing games with us!”

“Omega, stand down,” Alpha said sternly, pulling his protege back towards him. “You will only act when I say you can act. Otherwise, you will stand by my side and do nothing.”

“It’s obvious he’s lying to us!” Omega protested. “Just look at him!”

Septimus Prime chuckled, losing the nervousness he had been displaying earlier. “Young ones can be so outspoken, can’t they? I remember when I used to be like that….”

Omega opened his mouth to say something but Alpha silenced him with a single look. The older Trion then turned back to Septimus Prime and sighed.

“Is Logos still in your service or not?”

“I would have to check,” Septimus Prime replied, having taken on a more relaxed position in his throne. “You must know that I have hundreds upon hundreds of bots in my service, and they come and go with every business deal I make with the other Primes. It would take forever for me to know who’s still here and who is gone. But, seeing as you and I go way back, I will take it upon myself to find him for you. Then we can discuss an exchange if you so wish.”

“Very well,” Alpha Trion said gravely. “We will return in exactly one solar cycle. You have until then to find Logos.”

“Sounds fair.”

With a curt nod of farewell, Alpha Trion turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber, beckoning Omega to follow them. Once they were outside and past the front gates, Alpha glanced over his shoulder at his younger companion.

“Please do not ever act out of line again,” he said, sounding simultaneously strict and gentle. “We Trions pride ourselves over being calm and controlled. What you displayed back there was anything but.”

Omega fought the urge to scowl as he bowed his head. “My apologies, brother. I… it will not happen again. I promise.”

Satisfied with this response, Alpha Trion converted to his alternate mode. Omega did the same. As they revved up their engines, Alpha spoke up again.

“You are correct, though. He is definitely lying. Even if Logos is still there, he will find a way to lie to us and divert our attention to one of the other Primes.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We visit the other Primes and use their words against his. Once we expose his lie, Septimus Prime will have no choice but to tell the truth.”

“You seem certain,” Omega murmured.

“Trust me, brother,” Alpha chuckled. “Septimus is no less transparent now than he was the last time I saw him, twenty-five years ago.”